


Halloween Haze

by fleurofthecourt



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale takes care of Crowley, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, M/M, Protective Aziraphale, Sick Crowley (Good Omens), Sickfic, Trick or Treating
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-01
Updated: 2019-11-01
Packaged: 2021-01-16 13:49:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,636
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21272060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fleurofthecourt/pseuds/fleurofthecourt
Summary: Crowley and Aziraphale agree to take Warlock Trick or Treating in his American cousins’ neighborhood; there’s just one problem: Crowley’s caught a cold from Warlock.





	Halloween Haze

**Author's Note:**

> This got a little angsty at the end and I didn’t mean for it to. Gahh. Anyway, enjoy :)

It was a beautiful fall evening in Connecticut. 

The air was crisp and cool. The leaves in the trees and on the ground were dusty reds and yellows. 

The breeze was gentle enough that it wasn’t blowing away the costumed children’s tiaras, cowboy hats, and capes, nor blowing out the candles in the Jack-O-Lanterns. 

The street that Crowley was walking down, a few steps behind Warlock, smelled like pumpkin and cinnamon. 

He’d be enjoying how perfect it was if he wasn’t so miserable. 

He seemed to have picked up the cold that Warlock had had back in England somewhere over the Atlantic. 

Warlock’s American cousins had insisted that he do proper Trick or Treat in their suburban neighborhood, and Crowley, as much as he would have preferred to be in London, had made it work. 

Aziraphale, for reasons Warlock’s parents wouldn’t understand if they thought about it too hard, had come along as well. Crowley had insisted, after picking up on the angel’s interest in trying S’mores at the cousins’ Halloween bonfire, that it would take two to handle Warlock for the trip. The eccentric family gardener was of course the most logical choice. 

So it was that he was walking around a cul-de-sac dressed as Queen Victoria with an elegant gown and tiara that worked well for Nanny, while Aziraphale and Warlock wore the most uninspired costumes he could have imagined. Warlock was a warlock; he clutched a scepter of power in one hand and his bag of candy in the other as a black cape trailed behind him. Aziraphale, meanwhile, had a tacky gold halo hovering over his head. In addition to the nonsense he’d put together for his Brother Francis disguise, he looked truly ridiculous. 

If Crowley hadn't felt so truly terrible, he may have made more of a point of telling Aziraphale exactly that. 

But the corset of his Victorian dress was pressed too tightly against his chest and his heels seemed to pinch his toes more aggressively than usual. He felt like Aziraphale’s uncertain hand on his shoulder, guiding him along the sidewalk, was the only thing keeping him upright. 

He felt like he couldn’t breath, which was ridiculous since he didn’t technically need to to begin with. But his clogged nose, tight chest, and muzzy mind suggested that at the moment he really did need to, and he couldn’t get enough air in to do so. 

When they reached the end of the first street, and Warlock had run ahead to the door, Aziraphale shouted for Warlock to remember to say ‘thank you’ before tugging Crowley back.

Crowley, who was certainly not going to let a minor thing like a cold stop his demonic influence, shouted after him, “Remember it’s _ Trick _ or Treat. Don’t forget the Trick part.” 

Aziraphale rolled his eyes before looking Crowley over. “Are you alright, Crowley? You look flushed.” 

“Think it’s the wind, angel,” Crowley said, certain it was not the wind. 

Aziraphale shrugged and let it go as they made their way to the next street, opting instead to encourage the princess, astronaut, Cleopatra, and Spider-Man in the group of cousins to thank adults for the candy and complimenting the costumes of passersby. 

As they began to cross to the following street, a spell of dizziness overtook Crowley so suddenly that he flailed trying not to barrel into any of the kids. He just barely managed to catch himself, but he felt the heel of his shoe snap off on the curb of the sidewalk. He tipped forward again, and this time his hands scraped painfully against the pavement. 

The smell of old books and vanilla wafted over him before he registered that Aziraphale was pulling him up and back towards the curb. “Can you stand?”

He shook his head slowly and wished he hadn’t because it made the vertigo come back. “Broke my shoe.”

“Nothing a little gum won’t fix,” Aziraphale said pointedly as Warlock glanced back at them. He made an excessive show of chewing gum before placing it between the heel and sole of the shoe, and Crowley wondered, not for the first time, how no one had caught on to their act. “Go on, children. Nanny and I will catch up.” 

Aziraphale miracled the heel back together, completely removing the gum, and slipped it back on his foot. “You’ve caught Warlock’s cold, haven’t you?”

“I’m fine, Angel.” 

Aziraphale sniffed as he straightened Crowley’s tiara. “Never once, in the past eight years, have I seen you trip in those heels. Not once. You’re most certainly not fine.” 

Crowley sighed because there was really no denying that at this point. “Can’t exactly leave.”

“Nor would I let you,” Aziraphale said as he pulled him back up. 

“Let me?” Crowley repeated incredulous. 

“Crowley, you fell. You’re ill. Someone needs to look after you. You’re in no condition to walk back alone.”

“Was just dizzy for a moment. Passing thing. Sure it won’t happen again.” 

“Dizzy?” Aziraphale repeated thoughtfully. 

“Yeah?” 

Aziraphale tutted, and Crowley felt the material of his corset loosening. Breathing suddenly felt much easier. “Tight heels and a corset with a cold. Really, Crowley. I’m surprised you didn’t faint.”

Once Aziraphale put it that way, he was a little surprised himself. 

“Now stay close to me,” Aziraphale said as he threaded his arm through Crowley’s. Crowley took it for the anchor it was. 

The remaining hour of Trick-Or-Treat was long and uncomfortable, but Aziraphale’s steady arm on his made it bearable. 

When they finally made it back to the cousin’s house, Crowley was more than ready to collapse into his bed in the guest bedroom. 

He nearly moaned when Warlock pointed out the bonfire in the backyard and insisted they all go tell scary stories while making S’mores. When he didn’t immediately follow, Warlock grabbed his hand and tugged. “You love telling scary stories, Nanny! Come on.”

Aziraphale stepped in and pulled Warlock’s hand back. “Nanny’s not feeling well, I’m afraid. She needs to go in and have a lie down. Likely for the night. You go on ahead to the merry making with your friends.”

“But we need her. Nanny tells the best stories!” Warlock whined. 

“She can tell me one while I make her some tea. And then I’ll tell it to you.” Aziraphale said as he continued to motion him toward the bonfire. 

“It won’t be the same!” Warlock protested. “You’ll make it a lesson!” 

Crowley practically snorted at that and turned it into a not entirely feigned cough as Aziraphale glared. Warlock was perfectly right, of course. Aziraphale would try to add some kind of moral. Ruin the spookiness of the whole thing. “You go on ahead and make trouble without me, dear. I’m sure Brother Francis’ tea will fix me right up, and then I’ll come scare your toes right off.”

Satisfied with that, Warlock ran to join the other children. 

As he left, Crowley sagged against Aziraphale’s shoulder and asked, “you aren’t really going to make me drink your remedy tea, are you?” 

“I most certainly am. But first things first. We need to get you out of those clothes. Come on.”

He felt too sluggish to protest so he let Aziraphale lead him back to their shared guest room and push him into the armchair. 

Aziraphale pulled his heels off, and he practically moaned in relief before wiggling his toes and stretching his feet. 

“Now let’s see...” Aziraphale said looking Crowley over “a corset is certainly out of the question. Women’s fashion is so uncomfortable. I don’t quite know how you manage.” 

“Better than men’s. More interesting than men’s.”

“But so many less pockets. Well, how’s this?” 

Crowley admired Aziraphale’s choice of a long light pink satin night dress with a white lace collar and an equally pink dressing gown, both with ample pockets, before protesting. “Not my color, angel.” 

“Right. Of course not.” Aziraphale changed it all to black before getting up and patting Crowley’s hand. “Now you rest while I pop off for your tea.” 

Crowley leaned heavily into the chair as Aziraphale left, unsure what was worse, the aggravating cold or knowing that Aziraphale would be back to his more standoffish self once it past. He knew the angel cared, loath as he was to admit it, but it was nice to see it and feel it every now and again. 

The sniffles that he made into the heady aroma of lemon honey tea may not have been entirely from the cold. Aziraphale gave him an odd look but said nothing. 

Which prompted him to say, “I wouldn’t, you know.”

“Wouldn’t what?” Aziraphale asked. 

“Use the holy water.”

Aziraphale froze. 

“Not so long as you’re here. You make it, all this, all worth it.”

“Crowley...” Aziraphale warned, pleading.

And he heard it all _ You go too fast for me, I’m not ready, This isn’t the time. _

He knew it wasn’t, but his defenses were down. And he knew what he wanted. 

Maybe, Crowley hoped, after the damned apocalypse. If they survived that...

Maybe then.

“Go try a S’more, angel.”

XXX

Later that evening, Aziraphale woke him up insisting he try the S’more he’d brought him while he put his curlers in for him. 

It was a peace offering, and he took it. 

They weren’t as close as he’d like, but they were close enough. 

XXX 

Aziraphale pulled Crowley into his lap as they sat as Nanny and Aziraphale (well, Nanny’s husband, Mr. Fell)* around the bonfire at Warlock’s cousins house several years and one non-apocalypse later. 

Warlock had insisted Nanny come scare his cousins toes off, and Crowley decided he couldn’t disappoint. Aziraphale came along for the ride. 

“Remember the last time we were here, dear?” Aziraphale asked.” You had a miserable cold.”

“Yes, Angel, I remember. You took good care of me.”

**Author's Note:**

> *Warlock knew immediately that Aziraphale was Brother Francis and told him so. The boys’ parents were frankly oblivious.


End file.
